


The Best Laid Plans

by cassie_black



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 07:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassie_black/pseuds/cassie_black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pansy Parkinson’s got a plan.  It doesn’t work out quite like she expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Laid Plans

“You’re actually serious about this, aren’t you?” Draco stared at Pansy in disbelief.

“So what if I am?” Pansy stuck out her chin defiantly. “I don’t hear you making any better suggestions.”

“You never used to worry about what people thought.”

Pansy looked at her friend incredulously. “There’s a slight difference, Draco. It was one thing when people only looked down on us all for being Slytherins – after all, _we_ knew we were superior. But now it’s not _us_ , it’s pretty much only _me_. And it’s not just the other imbeciles who inhabit this school, it’s most of the wizarding world.” She paused here and rummaged in her bedside cabinet. “Did you see last week’s _Prophet_?” she demanded, tossing a dog-eared newspaper across the room.

Draco didn’t read it. But then, Pansy supposed bitterly, he already had. There were few people who hadn’t read Rita Skeeter’s damning article about the Girl-Who-Betrayed-The-Boy-Who-Lived.

“There are Death Eaters getting a better press than me,” she snapped.

“I know.” Draco’s tone softened noticeably as he _Levitated_ the offending article to the nearest bin. “But do you really think this is the best way of changing people’s minds?”

“Yes.” Pansy’s neat bob swung as she nodded her head emphatically. “Nothing catches people’s attention like a good love story. Throw in a quest for redemption as well, and they’ll eat it up.”

“Love story,” Draco repeated, scepticism clear in every word. “Between you...and Potter?”

Pansy huffed. “We’ve been over this already. It _has_ to be him. I need a fully-fledged war hero as a boyfriend, or it won’t work.”

“But Potter?”

Pansy shrugged. “I know he’s not exactly my type, but Weasley’s got a girlfriend, Longbottom is, well, Longbottom, and things aren’t so bad that I’m willing to change teams for Granger.”

Draco smirked at this last. “But _Potter_ has a girlfriend,” he commented. “Or have you forgotten about the littlest Weasley?”

“Her?” Pansy scoffed. “There’s nothing between them now. I guarantee it.”

“Really? Because Potter seemed rather taken from what I remember.”

“ _He_ might have been, but you saw how things were between her and Longbottom last year. Girl obviously has a taste for the hero type. And when was the last time you saw her and Potter together, huh?”

“I suppose,” Draco relented. “But don’t you think you’re reaching a bit with this one?”

Pansy shifted in her seat, smoothing her skirt over slender thighs. “I haven’t met a man yet who was immune to my charms.”

Draco coughed pointedly.

“A _straight_ man,” Pansy amended, shooting him a glare. “You know, Draco, you ought to think about trying it yourself. I know your mother won you quite a few brownie points by saving Potter, but you could still use a little help on that front.”

Draco laughed. “Hardly. The only possible option for me would be the Weasel’s older brother. And while I’ll admit he has a certain rugged charm, he lives in Romania for most of the year, and has red hair.”

“Hmm, I suppose the distance could be a problem, though I don’t know what you have against red hair. Makes for a fiery man in my experience, if you know what I mean.” Even if Draco didn’t, the lascivious wink Pansy gave him made sure that he did. “Besides,” she commented lightly, “I hear he’s very good with dragons.”

**********

“C’mon, Harry, we’re going to be late for breakfast if you don’t hurry up. And you know the house-elves always go all out on our first morning back.”

Harry appeared from the bathroom, still knotting his tie as he walked. He grinned at his best friend. “Be a shame to miss that, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.” Ron appeared not to notice the teasing.

“The others gone already?” Harry queried, as he glanced around the empty room.

“Yeah. Seamus and Dean just went down, and Neville left ages ago.” Ron paused. “I think he’s avoiding you. Because of Ginny, you know?”

“Really?” Harry tugged on his jumper, sending his hair into further disarray. “Why? I told him I wasn’t bothered. I thought things were okay between us.”

“You really don’t mind?” Ron asked. “I mean, I know you said so, but...if it was me, I don’t think I’d be as calm. He did practically nick your girlfriend.”

“Me and Ginny weren’t together,” Harry replied instantly – this was a conversation they’d had several times over the summer.

If he was honest with himself, even Harry was surprised by how little he cared about Ginny moving on. Not that he was ready to acknowledge it, not to Ron, and not when it meant he might be forced to look at the reasons behind it.

Thankfully, Ron let it go. They headed out of the dormitory and set off for breakfast.

“Where’s Hermione?” Harry asked as they descended the numerous flights of stairs down from Gryffindor tower.

Ron shrugged. “Dunno. Off doing Head Girl stuff probably. Not even she could be in the library this early in the term.”

Harry laughed. It felt good to be back. Hogwarts was the closest he’d ever come to having a home, after all. And despite the lingering unpleasant memories of the final battle, Harry was determined to enjoy his final year.

They crossed the Entrance Hall, Harry hurrying to keep up with Ron’s loping stride. There was only one person he knew who loved his food as much as Ron, and _that_ was Dudley.

Ron stopped. Harry quickly sidestepped to avoid impact.

“Ron!”

Ron wasn’t listening. He was too busy eyeballing Pansy Parkinson, who now stood in front of them looking decidedly uneasy.

“Weasley. Potter.” She managed a small smile, but Harry could see the effort it had taken.

“Don’t start, Parkinson,” Ron growled.

“I have no intention of starting anything,” she replied calmly. “I just wanted a word with Potter before breakfast.”

Ron let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, right. Like that’s ever going to happen.”

Harry wasn’t paying attention to his best friend. He was too busy watching Pansy, trying to read intent in her expression. He gave up in the end – the Slytherin mask remained impenetrable.

Harry placed a hand on Ron’s arm, stilling its journey towards his wand. “It’s okay,” he said.

Ron spun round to face him, eyes wide with surprise. “Are you mad? She’s a Slytherin.”

Ron had never lost the ability to make that last word sound particularly unpleasant, Harry noted. “War’s over, Ron, and they’re not the enemy. You go on; I’ll catch up with you.”

Reluctantly, Ron headed off towards the Great Hall, his head turning to stare back at them every couple of yards.

Harry watched him go, a wry smile on his face. “You want to do this here?” he asked suddenly.

Glancing at the crowds of milling students heading for breakfast, Pansy shook her head. “We could go outside,” she suggested.

**********

The warmth of a late summer morning greeted Harry as he pushed the heavy doors open and stepped outside. It was at times like this, with the sunlight glinting off the dew-laden grass, that he found it hard to reconcile his surroundings with the battle ground it had been, just a few short months ago.

As he turned to face his companion, another surprising sight greeted him. If he was honest, Harry knew very little about Pansy Parkinson, but what he _did_ know, he didn’t particularly like. Memories of Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad sprang to mind, and then there was her infamous denouncement of him on the eve of the final battle. However, the pale faced girl standing before him, shifting uncertainly, was not the same brash girl he had gone through school with for the last six years.

Now that she had her chance, Pansy appeared to be at a loss for words – another surprising change, Harry noted. Keen to be done with what he was sure would be an uncomfortable conversation, he decided to start her off.

“Did you want—”

“I’m sorry,” Pansy blurted out suddenly, a faint flush staining her cheeks.

“Oh.” Harry had been through a couple of these conversations already, most notably with Malfoy, but experience didn’t make him any more at ease with the situation.

Now that the initial hurdle was cleared, Pansy seemed to relax substantially. “What I said that night, about turning you over, I didn’t...well, I’m sorry. I know it was cowardly,” she gave a small shrug, “but I was scared, and I didn’t think you could win, and I just wanted to _live_.”

“I don’t think it was cowardly,” Harry replied thoughtfully. “It was quite brave really, to say what you did, in front of all those people.”

“But I-I...” Words appeared to fail her.

Harry allowed a small smile to curve his lips. “I didn’t say it was a good thing. But I understand _why_ you did it.”

“Oh.” Pansy didn’t sound convinced. Harry suspected that her Slytherin nature was looking for the hidden agenda.

He held out his hand. “Friends?”

Pansy gave a shy sort of a smile and slipped her smaller hand in his. Harry noticed that without her perpetual sneer, she was actually quite pretty.

**********

He usually wasn’t one to like or encourage undue attention, but Harry just couldn’t resist the sensation that he knew would be created by the sight of him and Pansy Parkinson walking into breakfast together. Ron, in particular, had turned a very interesting shade of red. The only disappointment had been the utter lack of surprise on Malfoy’s face.

“What was that all about?” Ron demanded finally, once he was able to stop choking.

Harry reached for the sausages. “What?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “C’mon, mate, you _know_ what. Parkinson, what did she want?”

Harry carefully loaded his plate with food, taking a few moments to school his thoughts before replying. “She apologised,” he said finally.

“Soft touch,” Ron muttered accusingly.

“What?” Harry protested. “You don’t know what I said.”

Ron chuckled ruefully. “Harry, I’ve known you since we were eleven; I know exactly what you said. Anyway, you forgave Malfoy, so there’s no way you could resist some pretty girl making doe eyes at you.”

“She wasn’t making...hang on, did you just say _pretty_?”

“She fancies you,” Ron said suddenly, ignoring Harry’s question.

“What?” Harry struggled to swallow a mouthful of food. “Don’t be daft. Of course she doesn’t.”

“Oh yeah? So why is she staring at you right now?” Ron speared another sausage and gestured in the direction of the Slytherin table with it.

Reluctantly, Harry looked, and found that Pansy was indeed staring back at him. She noticed him looking, blushed slightly, and lowered her head. “Isn’t she with Malfoy?” he queried, still watching her covertly.

Ron let out a laugh, muffled by a mouthful of food. “Rumour has it she lacks the proper equipment to satisfy him, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh.” Harry knew exactly what Ron meant. He turned his attention back to his breakfast, not ready to think about the implications of that statement.

***********

“So, how’s it going with you and Potter, then? Any progress?”

Pansy turned her attention from the nearby table of Gryffindors and smiled mysteriously. “Maybe.”

“What’s this?” Blaise looked up from his parchment, a slight frown on his face.

“Nothing,” Pansy replied shortly, with a meaningful glare at her friend.

Draco was immune to its effects. “Our Pansy has set her sights on Boy Wonder,” he said, with a nod in Potter’s direction.

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he huffed. “Have your secrets. There’s no need to take the piss.”

“Who’s taking the piss?” Draco demanded. “I’m serious.”

Blaise turned to stare at Pansy before shifting his gaze to where Potter was sitting. “I thought he was going out with the Weasel’s sister.”

“Old news.” Pansy gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Potter’s young, free, and single.”

“And rich, and famous, and hot.” Blaise counted the points off on his fingers as he listed them.

“Pardon?” Draco asked incredulously.

“What?” Blaise said, somewhat defensively, bristling under the stares of his friends.

“You just called Potter hot,” Pansy replied faintly.

“Well, what’s wrong with that? Clearly you think so too, seeing as your trying to get into his pants.”

“That’s different,” Pansy argued, looking to Draco for support.

Blaise obviously had the same idea. He shifted in his chair. “Draco, back me up here. Look at Potter and tell me you don’t think he’s fit.”

Draco squirmed awkwardly in his seat. Ever since Pansy had begun extolling Potter’s virtues, he’d found himself giving rather more thought to the Gryffindor Golden Boy than was comfortable. Sure, he’d obsessed over besting Potter in the past, but those thoughts hadn’t necessitated the use of his right hand.

“Draco doesn’t count,” Pansy declared.

“How d’you work that out?” Blaise demanded.

“He’s gay, isn’t he?”

“And?”

“Well, the point was that _you_ , as a renowned heterosexual male,” Blaise grinned smugly here, “called another bloke hot.”

Blaise shrugged. “What can I tell you, I’m a _new_ man. One of those metrosexuals.”

“Huh?”

In reply, Blaise dug into his school bag and produced a dog-eared, glossy magazine. “Here.” He slid it across the table. “Read this.”

Pansy made a long arm and snagged the publication. “ _GQ_ ,” she read off the cover. “This is Muggle,” she continued in shocked tones.

Blaise nodded. “Mother’s latest acquisition is a Muggleborn Count. His family own the publishing house.”

Pansy leafed through the well-thumbed pages. “Did you know about this?” she asked, with a glance at Draco.

Blaise snorted in amusement. “Know about it? I have to prise it out of his hands most nights. Have you seen some of the models in there?”

Pansy wasn’t listening any longer. She was looking from the fashion spread in front of her, over to where Potter sat with his friends, with a speculative gleam in her eyes.

**********

Harry shifted uneasily on the edge of Pansy’s bed. This hadn’t been quite what he’d had in mind when agreeing to study for their joint Potions project. Ron’s conviction that Pansy had a Slytherin-style seduction planned had been bad enough, but the knowing looks sent his way by Millicent and Daphne, as they vacated the room, had caused Harry to blush vividly.

He was utterly convinced that Pansy had no such designs on him, but Harry couldn’t help but see her every action in a different light now.

Pansy looked up from her book just in time to catch Harry starting at her thoughtfully. “You okay?” she asked, with a small smile.

“W-W-what?” Harry stammered, flushing again; if he wasn’t careful he’d be giving her the wrong impression of his own motives. “I’m fine,” he added hurriedly.

“Well, if you’re sure,” Pansy replied, turning back to her book.

“I was just wondering.” Harry felt a sudden urge to fill the silence.

Pansy shut the book and smiled encouragingly. “About what?”

“Just, how are things going for you? Being back at school, I mean.” Harry cursed his inarticulacy.

“Okay, I suppose,” Pansy replied. “Obviously, I’m not thrilled at having to repeat the year, but it can’t be helped.”

“So no one’s giving you any trouble?” Harry pressed. “Only, I heard rumours that some of the Slytherins were getting a hard time.”

Pansy shrugged. “It was only to be expected really, after what happened last year. We didn’t exactly endear ourselves to the rest of the school.”

“But you didn’t have—”

“A choice?” Pansy supplied. “No, we didn’t. Or, not much of one, at any rate.”

“Who...?”

Pansy reached out and placed a hand on Harry’s arm. “It’s nothing to get upset about,” she soothed. “We can handle a few outraged Hufflepuffs. Besides, having you as my own personal Knight in Shining Armour means they leave me alone.”

Harry squirmed slightly, uncomfortable as always with anything approaching a compliment. Pansy smiled again.

“What about you?” she asked. “How are your friends handling your sudden propensity for befriending Slytherins?”

Harry smiled wryly. “Ron’s...well, he’ll get over it eventually, and Hermione’s all for fresh starts and second chances, now that the...now it’s all over.”

“What about your girlfriend?”

Harry looked up in surprise. “Girlfriend?” he asked in puzzled tones. “You mean Ginny?”

Pansy nodded. “Unless you’ve got a secret harem stashed away that I don’t know about.”

Harry grinned. “Sadly, no. And I don’t think Neville would be too pleased to hear you calling Ginny _my_ girlfriend.”

“She dumped you for Longbottom?” Pansy sounded scandalised at best.

“She didn’t dump me,” Harry replied defensively. “We broke up a long time ago.”

Harry looked up to meet Pansy’s gaze, and noticed that she suddenly seemed a lot closer than she had been moments ago. The expression on her face _seemed_ innocent enough, but her hand was still on his arm, and Harry was certain her thumb was stroking his skin ever so slightly.

The door burst open before Harry had the chance to process any of these developments further. And as Draco Malfoy strode purposefully into the room, naked except for a small towel around his waist, Harry felt his mind suddenly empty itself completely.

He’d never seen skin as pale as Malfoy’s before. It almost gleamed in the flickering light of the wall sconces. And those droplets of water, slowly trailing down Malfoy’s torso, filled Harry with an urge to lick, to taste, to touch every part of that body.

 _What the fuck!_ Harry shook his head hard, trying desperately to remove such horrifying thoughts.

“Where the hell’s my _Hair Straightening Potion_ , you thieving witch?”

And right there, in that second, Harry remembered everything he’d ever hated about Draco Malfoy. Pale, pointy, sneering, and most definitely not attractive, lithe, or toned.

“Evening, Draco.” Pansy did not seem remotely fazed by the interruption. “Do come in.”

“Don’t try to sidetrack me,” Draco snarled. “Evening, Potter,” he added casually.

“Malfoy,” Harry replied reluctantly, and then went back to pointedly _not_ noticing the other boy’s presence.

“I don’t have it, Draco. Does this,” she tugged absently at a lock of her hair “look like it’s been styled recently?”

Harry thought Pansy was being a little harsh on herself, but clearly Slytherins had higher standards.

“You have a point,” Draco allowed, but then his lip pouted in a way that absolutely did not make Harry want to nibble on it. “But where is it?” he demanded petulantly. “It was there this morning.”

Pansy shrugged. “I guess you’ll just have to keep an eye out for anyone looking particularly sleek tomorrow.”

Draco huffed. “That’s helpful.”

“Couldn’t you just buy some more?” Harry ventured.

Twin looks of Slytherin disbelief fixed on him. “I _could_ ,” Malfoy replied, “only there’s a two-month waiting list, and it costs sixty Galleons an ounce.”

He gave a huff of disgust, turned on his heel, and headed for the door.

“You might want to take a look in Blaise’s trunk,” Pansy called after him helpfully.

Harry didn’t hear her. Malfoy’s jerky movements had caused the towel to slip slightly, revealing the small of his back with its fine dusting of light hairs. Not even the hint of the swell beneath the towel tempted Harry as much as the sight of that hollow – the urge to lick was back again, and this time it was overwhelming.

The door slammed behind Malfoy, and the loud noise brought Harry to his senses. He licked his dry lips nervously and turned his attention to Pansy, hoping his distraction had gone unnoticed. It was a vain hope. She was, after all, a Slytherin.

“Well, Harry Potter,” she observed, amusement dancing in her eyes. “I was certainly barking up the wrong tree with you.”

“Huh?” Harry didn’t even have to feign confusion.

Pansy giggled, sounding far more girlish that she acted. “Never mind. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Harry doubted that very much – he wasn’t even entirely sure _what_ his secret was – but grateful for small mercies, he turned his attention back to his text book. But try as he might, he couldn’t stop his eyes from flickering in the direction of the door. “Hair Straightening Potion” he asked finally.

Pansy nodded. “Why d’you think he slicked his hair back all those years?”

Harry let out a shaky laugh, grateful to have images of a naked Malfoy replaced with ones of him sporting a Hermione-esque mop of frizz.

“So,” Pansy said suddenly. “Tell me, are Weasley and Granger still dating?”

**********

Pansy didn’t bother knocking when she entered the boys’ dormitory. Mainly because she was a Slytherin, and Slytherins never announced their presence if they could help it; you never knew when you could stumble upon some potentially valuable gossip.

“Blaise,” she said sweetly, strolling into the room as though she owned it.

Blaise slipped a shirt on over his shoulders, but made no effort to fasten it. “Pansy,” he acknowledged. “Bit early for a social call, isn’t it?”

Pansy took a moment to admire Blaise’s torso; the bastard knew he was gorgeous and wasn’t above flaunting it. “Where’s Draco?” she asked finally, dragging her eyes up to meet his amused ones.

A slow, lazy grinned spread over Blaise’s face. “In the bathroom, trying to sort out his hair.”

Pansy shook her head with a smile. “He’ll kill you when he finds out, you realise.”

Blaise shrugged nonchalantly. “He can have it back when he hands over my magazine.”

“Magazine?” Pansy questioned, one hand resting protectively on her school bag. “That Muggle one you showed me?”

“ _GQ_ ,” Blaise qualified. “The new issue arrived yesterday and it’s missing already.”

“And you think Draco has it?”

Blaise scoffed. “Who else? I told you, he’s always got his greedy eyes on it. Knowing that little deviant, the pages are probably stuck together already.”

Pansy wrinkled her nose. “Thanks for the visual.”

“Like you wouldn’t want to watch.”

“You, maybe,” Pansy replied, running an appraising eye over Blaise’s body.

“You’re only human,” he agreed, smirking. “Now, I need to get ready for breakfast, so how about you tell me what you’re after?”

“Clothes,” Pansy replied succinctly.

Blaise eyed her critically. “Wouldn’t Draco’s stuff be more your size?”

Pansy shook her head. “Not for me, they’re for—”

“Don’t tell me,” Blaise interrupted, holding up one hand. “I have no desire to know what kind of role-playing you and Potter get up to. Take what you need,” he gestured in the direction of the wardrobe, “but never tell me what you did, and I want them properly cleaned before they come back.”

Pansy rolled her eyes, but said nothing further. She crossed the room and began rifling through Blaise’s extensive clothing collection.

The bathroom door banged open and Draco emerged, a black scowl marring his features. “Not a word,” he warned, glaring at his friends.

“About what?” Pansy asked innocently, hiding her grin in amongst Blaise’s clothes.

Blaise, meanwhile, ran an amused expression over Draco’s expertly slicked-back hair. “I think it’s a good look on you,” he observed, with a barely disguised snicker. “Always did.”

“Fuck off!” Draco snarled, one hand self-consciously touching his gelled locks.

“I don’t know why you just don’t wear it natural.” Pansy emerged finally from the wardrobe, clutching her haul.

Draco shot her a horrified look. “It’s _frizzy_!”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “It is not. It’s slightly wavy. The way you go on anyone would think you were Granger’s long lost twin.”

“Might as well be,” Draco muttered darkly.

“Can I touch it?” Blaise asked suddenly. “I always wondered what it felt like.”

Draco fixed him with a death glare that not even Lucius Malfoy could have bettered. “Don’t even think about it.”

**********

Harry spent that evening studying in the library. Well, truth be told, he was actually hiding, but study had seemed a more plausible excuse when Ron asked.

The last few days had seen him thrown into emotional turmoil. And, as usual, it was all bloody Malfoy’s fault. Ever since he’d laid eyes on that gleaming skin, stretched taut over lean muscle, Harry had been unable to rid his mind of the vision. Even his nightly wanks were haunted by memories of Malfoy’s naked flesh.

Harry was confused. Granted, he hadn’t had the most active love life up to this point – he had, after all, had other priorities – but any attraction he had felt had definitely been directed towards girls. The feelings he’d had for Cho, whilst childish, had been real. And those passionate kisses with Ginny were definitely not faked. But as much as he wanted to dismiss it, neither of those two _relationships_ , such as they were, had ever stirred him to the point that Malfoy had.

Harry wasn’t sure what was worse. Discovering he fancied blokes, or realising that that attraction seemed confined to the one boy he used to hate above all others.

And then there was Pansy. Slytherin, Malfoy’s best friend, and a girl – there was no way she’d be able to keep this development to herself.

Harry had just buried his head in his hands with a groan, when the click of heels drew his attention.

“Here.” Pansy slapped something on the desk in front of him. “Never mind homework, you need to look at this.”

Harry frowned and peered closer at what seemed to be a Muggle magazine. “What’s this all about?” he asked in confusion.

“You need help,” came the succinct reply. “You’re a mess.”

“Thanks for the ego boost,” Harry said wryly.

“Look, it’s nothing personal. You’re a nice guy, and you did save the world, which definitely earns you a few bonus points, but you’ll never get a boyfriend, certainly not someone like Draco, in these...clothes.” She wrinkled her nose on the last word.

“Boyfriend?” It came out as a decidedly unmanly squeak, but frankly Harry had more important things to worry about. “What...I don’t...why would I want a boyfriend? I like girls.” Harry took one look at the expression on Pansy’s face and relented slightly. “Okay, so maybe I might—”

Pansy dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand. “Don’t look so miserable. It’s not the end of the world.” She slid into a nearby chair. “Maybe you’re gay, maybe not. Though considering the disastrous Chang/Weasley interludes, you’re probably just bi. And Merlin knows, Draco’s pretty enough to turn a straight man.”

Harry allowed curiosity to overtake his moroseness. “Really?”

“It’s a long story, involving a broomstick, golden syrup, and entirely too much Firewhisky. Ask me no more questions, Harry; what happens in the dungeons stays in the dungeons.”

Harry grinned a little and thought this was probably a very good idea.

“Anyway,” Pansy continued, “I digress. The point is, Draco likes to look good, so naturally he likes his boyfriends to look good, too. Hence...” She tapped a painted nail on the magazine cover.

Harry shifted his chair away from her with a sense of growing alarm. “You’re not giving me a makeover,” he said in horrified tones.

Pansy chuckled and drew her chair nearer. “Funny you should say that, because that’s exactly what I’m doing.” She paused and got to her feet. “No arguments, Potter. Hogsmeade, Saturday. And wear these.”

She thrust a bundle of clothing at Harry whose eyes widened even further in horror. He gingerly shook out a pair of black jeans. “These are far too small,” he protested weakly. “I can’t wear these.”

“You can, and you will,” Pansy replied sweetly, while fixing Harry with a steely glare that made him reconsider his policy of befriending Slytherins.

“This is stupid,” he muttered mulishly. “I don’t even care what Malfoy thinks. And anyway, he’d never be interested in me, like that.”

Pansy shook her head and gave, what looked like, a pitying smile. “Make sure you’re ready to go early on Saturday. Oh, and you might want to wear some comfortable shoes.”

**********

“Do you really think Potter is hot?”

Blaise came to a halt outside Honeydukes, struggling to handle all his purchases. “Huh?” he asked around a mouthful of Ice Mice.

“Potter,” Draco repeated impatiently. “Did you mean what you said about thinking he was hot.”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Yes, Draco, we’ve been over this already. Just because I’m straight, doesn’t mean I can’t find other blokes attractive.”

“I _know_ that,” Draco replied. “It’s just...Potter. I don’t see it.”

Blaise shifted his packages into the crook of his arm and turned an exasperated expression on his friend. “Draco, this is me you’re talking to, okay.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, you’ve been pulling Potter’s pigtails for years now. You fancy him. _I_ know it, Theo knows it, Merlin, I think even Crabbe and Goyle knew it. You aren’t exactly subtle.”

“But that’s...I never...I don’t fancy Potter.” Draco crossed his arms and scowled fiercely.

“Really,” Blaise said, selecting another sweet. “So you weren’t checking his arse out on the walk down here earlier?”

“W-w-what?” Draco spluttered.

Blaise grinned. “I told you – not subtle.”

“I was only looking because he was wearing your jeans. Besides, Potter’s straight.”

“So was Warrington. But I didn’t notice that stopping you.”

Draco flushed. “I was drunk. And you swore never to mention that again.”

Blaise knocked his shoulder lightly against his friend’s. “I’m only kidding,” he soothed. “C’mon. I told Pansy we’d meet her in the pub for lunch. My treat.”

“Is she bringing Potter?” Draco asked warily.

Blaise gave him a sly smile and nodded. “No points for guessing what you’ll want to eat, then?”

**********

Harry was knackered. He hadn’t realised just how many clothing shops Hogsmeade had to offer – now, however, he was intimately acquainted with each and every of them. A lifetime spent wearing Dudley’s cast-offs, and with female friends such as Hermione and Ginny, meant that he had very little experience of shopping for clothes. After a morning spent with Pansy, he now considered himself something of an expert.

They’d visited every shop, some of them more than once, and in each one Pansy had filled his hands with various outfits and shooed him towards the nearest changing room. The obsequious behaviour of the shop assistants had been embarrassing enough, but Pansy’s insistence that he come out and model each outfit for her had left Harry mortified.

In fact, since the moment he had tugged on those skin tight jeans that morning, Harry didn’t think his face had been any other colour but bright red.

“Right,” Pansy said, as they emerged from the hairdressers, “I think we deserve a break for lunch.”

“A break?” Harry repeated, running one hand uncertainly through his newly-shorn hair. “You mean we’re not finished?”

He received a sharp elbow to the ribs for his troubles. “Stop complaining, Harry. I’m doing this for your own benefit.”

“And you’re not getting any enjoyment out of it yourself?” Harry asked sceptically.

“Well, of course,” Pansy replied, as if he’d just asked the stupidest question. “I got to see you in various stages of undress for starters – and now that I have, there’s no way I’m letting you go back to hiding that body under those shapeless clothes you used to wear.”

“Pansy,” Harry protested weakly, certain his face could go no redder.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake.” Pansy huffed. “You have a nice body, it’s about time you started showing it off.” She paused and gave him a sly look. “I’m sure Draco’ll appreciate it.”

“Pansy!” Harry looked around them in concern. “Stop saying stuff like that; someone will hear.”

Pansy shrugged. “So? You think people aren’t going to notice when you start holding hands and snogging all over the school?”

Harry almost choked on his own tongue. “You’re mad.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Pansy shot a him a grin over her shoulder as she pushed through the doors of the Three Broomsticks.

**********

Pansy watched in amusement as Draco took in the _new and improved_ Harry Potter. She didn’t blame him one bit for staring -- it was an impressive sight, if she did say so herself.

She’d been unable to persuade Harry out of his trademark glasses – he had little confidence in the offered Vision Correction Charms – but the hair had been cut and styled, and the clothes changed to reveal a body beneath that was already being admired by many. Probably the most attractive thing about Harry, she realised, was his complete unawareness of his own appearance. He didn’t realise he was good looking, and flatly refused to believe any compliment sent in his direction – and not in a falsely modest way either – he just genuinely didn’t get it.

Draco on the other hand, looked like he desperately wanted to _get it_. From the moment the two of them had entered the pub, Pansy had watched Draco’s eyes track Harry’s every movement. When Harry had slid into the booth opposite him, Draco had progressed to outright staring.

Pansy met Blaise’s amused look with a smug grin of her own.

“You cut your hair,” Draco blurted out.

Pansy watched in amusement as the now-familiar flush of colour spread over Harry’s cheeks.

“What? Oh, yeah.” Harry gave a sheepish grin and tugged at his fringe. “Pansy made me.”

“It looks good,” Blaise commented. “Doesn’t it, Draco?”

Draco shot his friend a discreet glare, and Pansy was fairly certain a well-aimed hex would be heading Blaise’s way before too long.

“Yes, it does,” was all he said, before quickly gulping at his butterbeer.

Pansy shot Harry an _I told you so_ grin.

“Nice jeans, too,” Blaise teased.

Harry wriggled slightly in his seat. “Yeah, they’re a little...tighter than I’m used to.”

“That’s the point,” Blaise replied. “No point hiding an arse like that under baggy clothes.”

“Blaise!”

Pansy was amused to see the look of outrage on Draco’s face, and the curious look Harry sent his way.

“You changed _your_ hair,” Harry commented softly, his eyes on Draco.

Draco scowled. “I didn’t have much choice,” he muttered, with a sideways glare at Blaise. “My potion is still missing.”

“It was probably the same person who took my magazine,” Blaise commented pointedly.

Draco remained oblivious. Harry, however, shifted uneasily and shot a questioning glance at Pansy.

Pansy, busily biting back a smile, shook her head slightly in Harry’s direction. The last thing she wanted was for Blaise to find out where his _GQ_ fix had actually gone. “I think you should leave it down tonight,” she said thoughtfully.

Draco shifted in his seat and stared. “Tonight?” he repeated. “What’s special about that?”

“Millie’s birthday party, remember?” She shook her head. “Honestly, talk about self-absorbed.”

“Talk about pots and kettles,” Draco shot back. “And I’m _not_ wearing my hair down. Not until it’s straight again.”

“Have you tried Madam Primpernelle’s?” Pansy suggested. “You never know, she might have some in stock.”

Draco shook his head morosely. “No point. She’s not exactly a fan of the family name, if you know what I mean.”

“You _have_ remembered that you’re meant to be getting the drink for tonight, haven’t you?” Pansy looked concerned as she was struck by this sudden thought.

Draco gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s all under control. Don’t worry about it.”

“That’s easier said than done when you’d forgotten all about the party until I reminded you.”

Draco ignored her, much to Pansy’s annoyance. He turned instead to Harry. “Are you coming tonight?”

Harry shook his head, and Pansy couldn’t help but smile at the look of regret on his face.

“You should,” Draco encouraged. “Slytherins throw the best parties.”

“I’m sure you do,” Harry agreed in amusement. “But I haven’t been invited.”

Draco frowned. “ _I’m_ inviting you.”

Harry flushed again, much to Pansy’s delight.

“So, are you coming then?” Draco persisted.

“I guess so,” Harry replied. “It’ll give me a chance to wear one of the numerous new outfits Pansy forced me to buy.”

**********

“Planning to make your move on Potter tonight, then?” Blaise couldn’t resist the temptation to tease his friend.

Draco shot him a glare that would have quelled most people. Blaise, however, had shared a dormitory with Draco for over seven years, and was more than used to those looks by now.

“What? I’m just asking. It’d be the perfect opportunity. Get a couple of drinks down his neck, declare your undying love, and _BAM_.”

“Must you be so crude?” Draco asked disdainfully. “ _Bam_? Is that what you do with your girlfriends? No wonder they don’t stick around very long in the morning.”

“Don’t try side-tracking me with insults, Draco. I cannot be provoked today.” He gave Draco a nudge with his shoulder. “Come on, you have to admit Pansy’s done a good job on him. Looking like that, Potter’s almost got me questioning my devotion to the ladies.”

Draco laughed. “Alright, if I admit that he looks good, will you let it go?”

Blaise shrugged. “I’m not sure. Let’s find out.”

“Huh?” Draco frowned in confusion, and Blaise simply nodded at something over his shoulder.

“Draco! Hold on a second.”

Harry Potter was hurrying towards them, calling for Draco’s attention. At one point Blaise thought he was going to have to pick his friend’s jaw up off the floor.

Harry finally caught up with them, his cheeks flushed, and a little breathless. “Did you forget something, Potter?” Blaise asked, a grin on his face as he watched the two awkward boys in front of him.

“What?” Harry looked up in surprise as though he’d forgotten Blaise’s presence already. “Oh, no, I just wanted to give Draco something.” He held out a small bag.

Draco took it eagerly, curiosity written all over his face. He peered inside. Blaise nearly laughed out loud when that look changed to outrage. “Moisturiser?” he demanded. “Are you trying to tell me something, Potter?”

“No!” Harry snatched the bag back and looked at its contents in alarm. He turned to Pansy, who had caught up with them at last. “I think our bags got mixed up,” he said.

Pansy grinned, and Blaise was sure it had been no accident. Finally in possession of the correct bag, Harry turned back to Draco. “Here.”

Draco looked a little more sceptical this time. Until he opened the bag and his face was lit up with a bright grin. Reaching inside, he pulled out a small, blue glass bottle, and gazed at it reverently. “Where did you get this from?”

Harry shrugged. “Pansy was right. Madam Primpernelle had some hidden away for special cases. I guess I qualified.”

Draco was practically dancing on his toes. “Potter, I could kiss you.”

Draco remained oblivious to what he’d said, but Blaise and Pansy noticed, and shared a knowing look. And if the colour of Harry’s face was anything to go by, he’d certainly heard.

**********

Harry felt awkward. He stood staring at the vast expanse of blank wall that hid the Slytherin common room, and tugged uncertainly on the hem of his shirt. Pansy had given strict instructions as to which outfit to wear, for which Harry was grateful. Left to his own devices, he wouldn’t have known where to start in his now-bulging wardrobe.

Pansy certainly seemed to know her stuff, he mused, especially if the reactions of his housemates earlier were anything to go by. He’d expected his friends to say nice things, but when Pavarti pretended to swoon into Lavender’s arms, Harry couldn’t help the tiny thrill of happiness that shot through him.

Before he could make up his whether to knock, or use the password Pansy had provided, the door appeared with a loud grinding noise. It slid back to reveal a grinning Blaise Zabini, who emerged clutching a half-empty bottle of Firewhisky.

“Potter, there you are.” He clapped Harry on the shoulder, before snaking an arm around his neck. “Don’t just stand there. Draco was starting to worry you weren’t coming.”

“Draco?” Harry repeated. “Why would he...”

Blaise chuckled, and used his arm to drag Harry in close. “Harry, Harry, Harry,” he sing-songed. “Such a naive little Gryffindor.”

Harry bristled slightly at the implied insult. “Like you’d know, Zabini.”

Blaise ignored this and leaned in closer until his lips were inches from Harry’s ear. Harry tried to pull away, as the sour smell of Firewhisky assaulted his nostrils, but clearly the alcohol had given Blaise a boost in strength.

“I want you to do me a favour,” Blaise said suddenly.

“Could you let me go first?” Harry asked hopefully.

Blaise shook his head. “Can’t. Someone might hear, and it’s a secret.”

Harry was rather more concerned about someone _seeing_. To the uninformed, it would look very much like he and Blaise were in some sort of clinch. In fact—

“Did you just lick me?” Harry shrieked incredulously.

Blaise pulled back slightly, a sheepish grin on his face. “Just checking something,” he said, as if that explained everything.

Harry was beginning to lose his patience. “Why don’t you just tell me what you want, and then we can go inside?”

“Want?” Blaise’s eyes clouded with confusion for a moment. “Oh, right, yes. I want you to do me a favour.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I think we’ve already established that, Zabini. I’m going to need more detail before I agree to anything.”

Blaise leaned back in, his breath tickling the short hairs on Harry’s neck. Harry tensed slightly; he had no desire to be licked again – at least, not by Zabini.

“Draco,” Blaise murmured. “It’s about Draco.”

Harry couldn’t deny his interest now. “What about him?” he asked uncertainly.

“Pansy says you like him. Is that true?” Blaise pulled back for a moment and fixed Harry with a serious look.

Harry stiffened. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” he snapped.

“Because he’s my friend, and I’m not going to stand back and watch you play games with him.”

“Games?” Harry spluttered. “What games?”

Blaise heaved a sigh. “You really are as clueless as Pansy says.” He shook his head and thought for a moment. “Look, Draco likes you. I mean _really_ likes you. So when you do things, like earlier with the potion, it makes him think he has a chance. So I need to know if you’re serious.”

Harry’s mind was reeling with all this new information. He’d felt safe in his crush on Malfoy, admiring his erstwhile nemesis from afar, whilst secure in the knowledge he would never have to act on it. After all, Malfoy had hated him for years – there was no danger of his feelings ever being reciprocated. But now...now it was real. There was an actual real chance something could come of this, and Harry could feel the panic taking hold.

“Potter!”

Harry was startled out of his thoughts as Blaise gave him a shake. “Are you even listening to me?” he asked in exasperation.

Harry pushed away from Blaise, and was surprised to find his efforts successful. “I think Draco deserves to know the answer to that question first, don’t you?” he replied calmly, hoping the nerves wracking his body didn’t reflect in his voice.

Blaise took a step back and gave him a long, considering look. Just as Harry was beginning to despair of ever making it into the party, and to Draco, Blaise gave an approving nod.

“Fair enough,” he said, before taking a swig from the bottle in his hand. “Want some?” He wiped the neck of the bottle with his hand and held it out.

Harry wasn’t really a big fan of Firewhisky, having had one or two unpleasant morning-afters during the post-war celebrations. But as he considered the somewhat surreal interlude he’d just experienced, and the even more surreal night he suspected was to come, Harry figured the comforting blanket of alcohol might help somewhat.

**********

Draco was antsy. He’d had several drinks by now in an effort to calm himself down, but it didn’t seem to be working. Potter was late, Blaise had disappeared with the whisky, and Pansy kept shooting him knowing glances from across the room. None of which was helping him to relax.

As annoyed as he’d been earlier when Blaise had called him out on his feelings for Potter, Draco was almost glad it was out in the open. He’d bottled up, and attempted to deny, his attraction to Potter for years – ever since he’d seen him fly against that dragon in fourth year, to be precise. It might be nice to actually have someone to talk to about it – after all, Blaise was surprisingly in touch with his emotions for a straight bloke.

Potter. Once again it all came back to him. Draco had worked hard to admit that nothing could ever come of his feelings. Potter was straight – he just had to accept that. But just recently, things had seemed to shift between them. He’d noticed Potter watching him at meal times, in lessons, and not in that _I suspect you of evil wrong doing_ way that he used to. It was more in a curious, thoughtful way, almost as if he were searching Draco’s face for the answers to something.

And then today, he’d sat there in the pub, gazing at Draco with his big, green eyes, and that pretty flush on his face that made Draco want to throw him on this nearest surface and do unspeakable things. The touch of his hand as he’d given Draco the hair potion, the way it had lingered just a little longer than necessary – all of these things had allowed Draco to hope, in ways that he’d never dared to before.

A quick look at his watch showed it was way past nine. Potter obviously wasn’t coming, and frankly Draco had no other interest in remaining at this party. Millicent was a nice enough girl, but Draco had no desire to watch her sucking Theo’s tongue out of his mouth. He placed his empty glass down on the mantelpiece and then turned to go.

“Shit! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Draco had one hand pressed against his chest as he took several deep breaths. There in front of him, looking practically edible, was Harry Potter.

“Sorry.” Harry gave an awkward smile that Draco longed to kiss off his face. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“No. No, of course not,” Draco lied. “Party’s just getting going.” The _now you’re here_ was left unsaid.

“Want a drink??” Harry held up the Firewhisky that Blaise had let him keep in a rare fit of altruism.

Draco took one look at the strong forearms revealed by Harry’s shirt and gulped visibly. Instead of licking the golden skin, as he so desperately wanted, he took the proffered bottle and drank deeply. It had been hard enough to resist his attraction before, but in his new clothes, Harry had become virtually irresistible. And, as was pointed out to him on numerous occasions, Draco wasn’t known for his self-control.

Then, fingers were touching his hair, running through the silken strands gently, and Draco was convinced that he might die pretty soon.

“I like your hair much better like this.” Harry seemed reluctant to remove his hand, and instead allowed it to linger on Draco’s shoulder. “So soft,” he murmured.

Draco screwed up ever last ounce of courage he possessed. Smiling tentatively, he lifted his hand and slid it around Harry’s neck, his fingers running over the closely-cropped hair at his nape.

Instead of pulling away as expected, Harry slid his own hand back up from Draco’s shoulder, until his fingertips were skimming over the skin of Draco’s neck.

Their gazes never wavered from each other. That strange intensity between them was still there, only now it had shifted focus. Instead of a desire to hurt, all Draco could think about was Harry Potter’s lips, and when, in the name of Merlin, was that git going to kiss him?

He got his answer seconds later as he felt the smooth press of Harry’s lips against his. In no mood to play hard to get, Draco parted his lips eagerly, coaxing Harry’s tongue into his mouth with teasing strokes of his own.

When he felt hands gently cradling his jaw, and feather-like touches caressing his skin, Draco could have cried. He’d waited years for this moment, never daring to hope it might actually happen. Now, here he was, in Harry’s arms. And it felt so natural, so perfect, so _right_.

They parted eventually, and Draco was gratified to see the reluctance on Harry’s face. He pressed their foreheads together, panting slightly.

“Well, that was different,” Draco said finally.

“Good, different?”

The hint of uncertainty in Harry’s voice made Draco’s chest swell. He pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. “Definitely good,” he confirmed.

The answering grin on Harry’s face practically lit up the room. “You want to get out of here?” he asked, smoothing his hands up and down Draco’s arms in a distracting manner. “I know somewhere we could have a bit more privacy.”

Draco grinned so wide he was sure his face would split. “Harry Potter,” he said, in mock-scandalised tones. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Harry laughed, and Merlin, if it wasn’t the most wonderful sound. “Is it working?” he asked.

Draco leant in and pressed another kiss to those perfect lips. “Absolutely.

**********

Pansy made her way into breakfast the next morning with a smug grin on her face. Blaise had already reported that Draco’s bed hadn’t been slept in, and no one had seen either Harry or him since they had sloped off together the night before.

Pansy had spent many a happy moment imagining exactly what they had been up to in their absence.

She was brought out of her pleasant musings by the sound of her name being called.

Ron Weasley stood a few feet away. “Oi! Parkinson!”

“Not so loud, Weasley.” Pansy winced. She might not have drunk quite as much as some, but her head was still a little delicate. She closed the distance between them. “Now, what do you want?”

“Where’s Harry?” Ron demanded. “His bed hasn’t been slept in, and no one’s seen him since he left to see you last night.”

Before she could think of a suitable reply, Pansy caught sight of something over Ron’s shoulder. “I think that should answer your question,” she said, grinning.

Ron turned on his heel, eyes following the direction of her nod.

Pansy wasn’t sure what satisfied her the most. The sight of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy holding hands as they crossed the Great Hall, or the look of utter shock and horror on the Weasel’s face.

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed.

And judging from the gasps of shock coming from all quarters of the Hall, it was a sentiment echoed by many.

Pansy shared a grin of smug satisfaction with Blaise, as the two boys seated themselves at the Slytherin table. This certainly hadn’t been her plan at the start of the year, but it had still turned out nicely.

With that in mind, she turned back to the stunned boy at her side. “So, Weasley,” she began conversationally, “how _are_ things between you and Granger?”

**********


End file.
